I, Claudia

by Marilyn Todd

  ‘Well, I hope you never bring him to the house.’ She tossed the pomegranate over her shoulder. ‘I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.’

  ‘Every man in Rome looks at you the same way.’ Gaius gave her arm a gentle squeeze. ‘But I’ll probably invite him to the banquet.’

  ‘What banquet? Gaius, I wish you’d consult me more often.’

  ‘Claudia,’ he replied patiently, ‘I told you about it weeks ago. The one on the Ides.’ An ominous edge crept into his voice. ‘I hope you’re not telling me you’ve forgotten, because I’ve invited some very important people.’

  Damn, damn, damn. It was Melissa’s fault, of course, she should have reminded her!

  ‘Oh that banquet.’ She shrugged indifferently. ‘I thought maybe you’d slipped in another one.’

  Nine days. She’d really have to steam to get the bloody thing organized in time! And how was she going to find the time to track down a killer as well?

  More cymbals, more animals, more bets, more losses. ‘Our paths cross so rarely these days,’ he remarked eventually.

  Often enough for my liking.

  ‘You always seem to be out, Claudia.’

  ‘You always seem to be busy, Gaius.’

  And not only with work.

  ‘I don’t bring it home, though.’

  ‘Even you aren’t that insensitive!’

  Gaius pursed his lips. ‘Now, why are you so prickly today, my sweet? You usually enjoy the games.’

  ‘I’m always prickly,’ she said, and Gaius’s heavy body shook with laughter.

  ‘You’re right there.’ He leaned conspiratorially towards her and lowered his voice. ‘Fancy a small bet? I know it’s illegal but once in a while maybe…?’

  Claudia shook her head. ‘Can’t be bothered,’ she said, frantically signalling to Junius to put a whole denarius on the leopard. ‘Maybe when the gladiators come on.’

  *

  The midday executions had been a bit of a disappointment. Either Rome was getting safer or criminals were getting smarter, but whatever the cause, only five men went down on to the sand and none of them lasted long. Watching the pairs slug it out had been pitiful and the survivor, the snivelling coward, had positively hurled himself at the wretched tiger in the end. What did he think? That because he’d beaten the others he was free to go? Claudia had lost several sesterces on him, because until then he’d proved a tough character and she’d bet double that he’d fight like a man and last a good fifteen minutes. However, she couldn’t complain. Geta, one of Rome’s finest bestiarii, had got himself disembowelled by a rhinoceros before he could fire off a second arrow, and her rash bet on the rhino had left her well ahead of the game.

  ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself.’

  Startled out of her reverie, Claudia spun round to gaze into the bearded face of a tavern-keeper she hadn’t seen for over five years.

  ‘Ligarius!’

  Quickly composing her features, she signalled Junius to keep an eye out for her husband’s return.

  ‘They said you’d done well for yourself.’

  ‘I thought you were in Genoa.’

  He shrugged. ‘Not since last November. You’re looking lovelier than ever Claudie.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘Just came over for a chat, that’s all. I thought it might be nice to talk about the old days.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Claudie. You can spare an old mate ten minutes, can’t you?’

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘I only want to talk.’

  ‘Ah!’ She was beginning to understand. ‘How much?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Is this man bothering you, Claudia?’

  Julia’s husband, a man with the face both the colour and texture of an underripe mulberry, slipped his arm around her shoulder. She could feel a damp patch forming, but resisted the urge to flick his hand away.

  ‘Marcellus, kindly convince this fellow I’m not the bookbinder’s wife. He won’t take no for an answer.’

  Her brother-in-law ostentatiously adjusted his toga. ‘This,’ he said pompously, ‘is the wife of Gaius Seferius, the wine merchant. His sister is my wife. Now clear off and pester someone else.’

  Ligarius opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled to Claudia, backing into the crowd.

  ‘You can remove your sticky hand now, Marcellus.’ He ran his palm lingeringly over her shoulderblades and down her backbone.

  ‘Now, you bastard, or I’ll slap your face in full view of everybody!’

  ‘All right, all right.’

  When he smiled, she could see the gap in his teeth. Thank Hymen Gaius had a full set! Even if they weren’t that good.

  ‘Keep your hair on, Claudia.’

  ‘I do,’ she snapped. ‘It’s your wife who runs up the wigmaker’s bills.’

  ‘She needs the adornments,’ Marcellus replied, running the back of his hand down her cheek. ‘You don’t.’

  ‘Oh look, there’s Gaius.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Stop teasing.’ He inched closer. ‘I’m serious. You don’t need cosmetic aid, not even round those lovely big eyes of—Ouch!’

  Claudia was grinding her heel on his little toe. ‘Remus, I love a woman of spirit. Suppose we make sweet music together?’

  That he’d been drinking heavily was in little doubt, yet Claudia had the impression he was making genuine overtones.

  ‘Frankly, Marcellus, I’d rather throw myself to the lions.’

  Yes, the killer must be a punter, because someone’s tongue was definitely loose. No matter, when she found him, she’d loosen it for good!

  ‘Second thoughts, I’d prefer to throw you to the lions.’

  There were limits, after all, on what a girl would do, even for money. Small wonder Julia was frigid.

  Having despatched the reptile that passed for her brother-in-law, Claudia was laying into Junius for allowing Marcellus to get within ten paces when Flamininus the censor sidled up.

  ‘Tomorrow morning?’ he whispered, pretending to look the other way.

  ‘No.’ She’d have to give up working for a while. It was the only way to stop the bloodshed.

  ‘But you promised!’

  Or was it? The killer might be working through a list. Great heavens, Flamininus himself might be responsible. She decided to meet him as planned and question him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go on to that smelly tenement afterwards.

  His voice took on a wheedling tone. ‘Please, Claudia. I’ll make it worth your while.’

  You bet your sweet life you will. ‘No.’

  Urgency crept in. ‘Claudia, you must. I’ll double the price.’

  ‘Treble it.’ If she was to clamp his testicles and lead him around by a halter while he called her filthy names, the least he could do was pay for the privilege.

  ‘Very well. Treble it is. Goodbye, Claudia.’

  When she turned round, he’d melted into the crush. Now, perhaps, she might be able to enjoy a peaceful moment to herself.

  ‘There you are, my sweet. Look who I’ve found.’ Gaius was standing beside her with a huge grin pasted across his face.

  ‘A long-lost cousin from the north. You might not remember him, of course, you were very young at the time, but he assures me he remembers you very well.’ There was no one from the north who could remember her, that was the point. She had chosen her new identity with extreme care. The other Claudia had no family, her relations by marriage were killed by the plague. Every last one of them.

  ‘Hello, Claudia.’

  Her face set like marble, Claudia slowly turned round. ‘Remember him now, my sweet? Marcus Cornelius Orbilio?’

  VI

  ‘Little Markie! My word, how you’ve grown!’

  The sarcasm flew right over Gaius’s head, as of course she knew it would.

  ‘You recognize him, then? Splendid, splend
id!’

  ‘I’d know him anywhere,’ Claudia replied sweetly, watching Orbilio squirm. ‘And to think I believed myself without a relative in the whole wide world.’

  Whatever reaction the miserable worm had been expecting, it wasn’t being welcomed with open arms. She smiled. And whatever devious game he was playing, she could match it in spades.

  ‘Oh, well—it’s a very distant connection…’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Remind me again, Markie, my poor mind’s gone completely blank.’

  ‘Ah, well… Your mother was my mother’s, er second cousin. Yes, that was it. Of course,’ he said apologetically to Gaius, ‘Claudia and I rarely saw one another.’

  ‘Nonsense, you used to visit an awful lot, Markie, don’t you remember? Your mother couldn’t wait to get shot of you.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘You might not believe it, Gaius, but Marcus here was a perfectly horrible child. Always following me about, forever poking his nose into matters that didn’t concern him and asking the most preposterous questions.’

  Orbilio gave a brittle smile.

  ‘Not much family resemblance,’ Gaius said, cheerfully peering from face to face, ‘although you’re both fine-looking specimens. Must have been a damned handsome family on your mother’s side, what?’

  ‘Absolute stunners, the lot of them,’ Claudia chipped in before Orbilio opened his mouth. ‘Although underneath Marcus’s mother was a frightful old boiler. Gave him a terrible childhood.’

  She stood on tiptoe and whispered loudly in Gaius’s ear.

  ‘No one can say for certain exactly who Markie’s real father is.’

  It was clear Gaius attributed Orbilio’s colour and discomfort to the airing of his family background. Claudia linked her arm firmly through Orbilio’s and drew him away.

  ‘So how is the old bat these days?’

  ‘My mother? She’s dead.’

  ‘Fancy.’ Claudia placed the flat of her hands against his chest and pushed gently until he was sitting on the stone seat. ‘Then I’d really appreciate it,’ she said quietly, ‘if you’d be kind enough to go and join her just as quickly as you can.’

  She patted his mop of curly hair and returned to her husband.

  ‘Loathsome fellow,’ she said. ‘Never want to see him again.’

  ‘I think you’re being unfair my sweet. He’s your only living relation and I’m sure he’ll have mellowed over the years.’

  Claudia followed his glance to where Orbilio was sitting, frantically combing his hair with his fingers.

  ‘Doubt it. See? Still sulking like he used to. Oooh, look, there’s Octavia. I’ll catch up with you later, Gaius.’

  Elbowing her way towards a make-believe friend across the other side of the amphitheatre, Claudia wondered whether she’d been a trifle hasty in disposing of Orbilio so quickly. Maybe she could have wheedled some information out of him? No matter. He was up to something, and in her experience a pre-emptive strike always proved the most effective form of attack. She was still congratulating herself as she summoned the rugged young Gaul.

  ‘Junius, I want you to run an errand for me. You know Gratidius, the mercer? Good. Well, I want you to find his assistant…’

  The slave listened attentively, repeating Claudia’s instructions back to her practically verbatim.

  ‘Oh, and Junius.’ She was feeling quite sublime about the way she was handling this dodgy business. ‘Drop my winnings off at Lucan’s counting tables on the way.’

  The Gaul’s mouth twisted. ‘There are no winnings, madam. You bet them all on the Nubian.’

  ‘Bugger!’

  Claudia slapped her forehead. This is all that bloody Orbilio’s fault, she thought. Odious little snooper.

  ‘Listen, if that investigator chappie comes slinking round asking questions,’ she said, ‘you just smile and nod and say yes to everything he asks. And I mean everything.’

  He’ll think the boy’s daft or unable to understand the language properly, and either way it suits me right down to the ground.

  ‘There’ll be a sesterce in it for you,’ she added, because loyalty was a fine quality in a man but you couldn’t always take it for granted. Especially in a slave.

  *

  There was a comic turn in progress when Claudia finally resumed her seat. In the arena, two women of truly enormous proportions were pretending to be gladiators, clashing wooden swords and oohing and aahing all over the place. Like real fighters, they too were naked and when one fell in a mock wounding, she cast aside her shield in imitation of the plea for mercy except instead of raising her left hand, she shook her breasts in a most lascivious manner to the deafening roars of the delighted crowd and, thus pardoned, the fight recommenced. The Seferius party didn’t seem to have even noticed. Gaius was installed with his arm around Flavia, who—surprise, surprise—was grizzling loudly, while Julia sat on the end, tight-lipped as usual. Thank goodness Mulberrychops was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Claudia!’ The relief on Gaius’s face was overwhelming. ‘Perhaps you could have a word with my daughter. Seems she’s a little concerned about the, er, honeymoon activities.’

  ‘Why, Gaius, I’d be delighted.’ She smiled radiantly at her sister-in-law. ‘You should have asked, Julia.’

  Julia’s face darkened with indignation, but she remained silent as Flavia disentangled herself from her father and latched on to Claudia like a leech. Claudia pushed her away, forcing herself to leave what she hoped would be translated as a motherly hand on the girl’s shoulder but refusing to move any closer. Juno, that child could use a bath! If this was a ploy to escape her honeymoon activities, she was certainly going the right way about it.

  ‘Gaius!’

  Talk of the devil.

  ‘Antonius! You know my sister of course, but I don’t believe you’ve met my wife. Claudia, allow me to introduce Flavia’s fiancé, Antonius Scaevola.’

  The newcomer smiled. ‘You’re absolutely correct, Seferius. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.’

  Liar. Several times, if memory serves me right. And at twenty sesterces a shot, no less.

  Antonius settled himself beside Flavia and slipped a proprietorial arm around her shoulder his hand brushing against Claudia’s as though by accident. He wasn’t a bad looking fellow on the whole, she thought, and he had more energy than most men half his age. The best advice anyone could give Flavia, now she thought about it, was to get herself fit. After all, Scaevola was no once-a-night man, his bride would need stamina by the bucketload. She glanced at Gaius. He was surprisingly fit, in spite of his bulk. And fast with it. His chins wobbled as he laughed and suddenly Claudia was glad his energies weren’t invested in the marital bed.

  ‘What do you make of Crassus, then? Tied up and stark naked, too. Something of a new development.’

  Antonius moved away from Flavia, ostensibly so he could see the arena better, but Claudia had caught the wrinkling of his nose.

  Gaius turned to look at his friend. ‘I hope Callisunus nails the bastard soon, because you never know who’s going to be next.’

  Julia let out a small whimper, but no one took any notice.

  Scaevola’s mouth turned down at the edges. ‘There’s a lot of men hiring bodyguards—’

  ‘Ooh, Julia! Think of all those broad, muscular bodies round the house,’ Claudia whispered to her sister-in-law, wondering whether she was supposed to have been chastened by the withering look she received in return.

  The fat women waddled off, to wild cheers and whistles, and the serious fighting began.

  ‘—and they say there’s another new development. A mysterious noblewoman, according to Callisunus.’

  Claudia’s ears pricked up. ‘Sounds highly unlikely, a woman of our class skulking round backstreet slums,’ she said. Oh yes, the sooner she returned to that dump the better. ‘Do they seriously think the killer’s a woman?’

  ‘Could be,’ Antonius replied. ‘Callisunus hasn’t ruled out the possibility that the Woman in Green is his
man, so to speak.’

  ‘Woman in Green, eh? Could be you, Julia. You favour green a lot.’

  Another withering glance. She’d have to be careful baiting her sister-in-law in public, she decided. One of these days the old bag would turn. But in the meantime there was a great deal of fun to be extracted from the game.

  ‘Balbus won’t pay attention to rumours.’ Antonius paused to cheer on the net fighter. ‘His opinion is that the scum who rent those places would sell their children into prostitution for a copper quadran, and, heavens, he ought to know, he takes enough of their money.’

  Claudia had heard quite enough about Ventidius Balbus for one day, thank you.

  ‘You promised a bet, remember?’ She nudged Gaius in the ribs. ‘What about us all wagering a little something on the next fight?’

  Her enthusiasm was pounced on by the other four, and while Scaevola organized the stakes, she sincerely hoped it wasn’t her future son-in-law who was responsible for the murders. He was good fun to have around, by and large. It would be a bloody shame to kill him.

  VII

  More than ever the tenement resembled an ant’s nest as Claudia wove her way across the large, open courtyard. Maybe it was the threat of thunder that hung heavy in the air, or maybe late morning was simply the busiest time of the day, but the bawling and wailing seemed louder than ever, the smell worse than she remembered. This time, resplendent in peacock blue, she arrived by litter, drawing the crowd she’d intended. By the second landing, however, a tongue-lashing had disposed of the curious and Claudia was once again alone.

  Dark and comfortless as before, the room had not been touched. Crassus’s bloodstained toga sprawled over the mattress, his boots waiting patiently under the window for their owner to collect them. Dust lay thick on the rickety table, a shrivelled onion and a broken pot beneath it. In the far corner, flies hummed round the charcoal brazier. Claudia was on the point of leaving when her eye caught one object which definitely had not been there the last time.

  ‘Forgotten something, Claudia?’

  Marcus Cornelius Orbilio slowly unfolded his arms and prised himself off the flaking plaster.